Bad Kids
by KlainesSecretChild
Summary: McKinley High is a reform school. When 13 students get put in the losers den of 'Glee Club', will their personalities change or will they succumb to the music? Rated M for later Slash.
1. Chapter I, Part I Hummel

Bad Kids

**McKinley High is a reform school. When 13 students get put in the losers den of 'Glee Club', will their personalities change or will they succumb to the music? **

**Chapter One- The History of the Troublemakers **

**Part I – Hummel**

I'm not sure at what moment the fucking authorities had decided that I needed to be chucked into a shitty reform school, but I know that whatever I did was undeserving of it. I stare blankly at the brochure for the place I was being shipped to. Burt, my dad agrees to this insane plan heartily and says that 'it's best for me'. He doesn't know shit. The only thing that's best for me is to remain in my natural routine, not some stupid school for naughty teenagers. The happy, smiling faces on the brochure almost summon my lunch and make it spew out of my mouth.

I don't understand why they think that some ignorant teachers are going to help me to 'grow' or whatever bullshit they fed to my dad.

"Kurt, can you come here please?" Burt shouts from downstairs. Sighing heavily, I toss the 'McKinley Institute for Troublesome Teenagers' pamphlet under my bed, praying I never lay my eyes on that shit again, and stomp down the stairs.

"What do you want?" I say, slouching on the couch opposite my dad.

"Kurt, I know that you don't believe that the Institute can help you, but I really think that you need to be educated on proper behaviour. Acting like this won't get you anywhere. It won't take you to New York or Buenos Aires or wherever it is you want to go and live."

"It's called Paris, Dad." I retort grumpily. He should know better than to send me away.

"I know that you want to stay in Lima and remain at your current school, but trust me, this is good for you."

"Yeah, I believe you." I lie.

"You do?" Burt asks in disbelief.

"Of course not, dipshit, do you really think that sticking 300 wrongdoers in the same building is the right recipe for rehabilitation." I blather. No matter what acts I do wrong, I don't believe in short speaking. I always speak and write properly, despite my overall demeanour suggests.

"Don't take that tone with me, Kurt. You know I try to do right by you."

"You've done a great job." I mutter.

"Hey! That's not fair."

"Well, this fucking school isn't fair, either. This won't be good for me. I'm not a doll, Dad. You can't position me whichever way you want and then control my life!"

"I'm afraid that I can, Kurt. I'm your Dad!"

"You're the most pathetic excuse for a father I've ever seen! You pretend to be alright with my sexuality and then try and control me, despite what I want. You think this is good parenting? Think again, you stupid man. I'm actually glad I'm going to this place. It means I won't have to see you!" I screech, my anger issues taking control over the rational, calm side that I used to know."

"If that's how you see things."

"It is." I finish.

Burt goes silent and I trample back to my room. I clench my fists and grab my pillows, rage building steadily. I chuck the soft items across the room, knocking over the $100 lamp.

I pant as I usually do after an anger storm. Steady breathing is what was advised, and it usually helps. This time is no exception. I collect my discarded pillows from the haphazard fashion I left them in and flop back onto my bed. I stare at the ceiling and think about my situation. I'm being sent to this horrible school just because I punched some kid because he called me a fag. I didn't just punch him, I might be understating this. I kinda hit him with a baseball bat. He deserved it, though. He's 17 and his name is Joey Carmichael.

I am in the depths of Hell right now. Going to this posh Institute that's supposed to help me. Le sigh. They don't know anything.

I breathe in deeply and wonder what it's like. Three more days left.

Then comes my worst nightmare.

Bring. It. On.

* * *

**A/N: I'm trying this new series. I think this will work. These first chapters are just insights into the lives of the New Directions kids' before they arrive at 'The William McKinley Institute for Troublesome Teenagers' or the 'WMITT' for short. So, this was Kurt. I know he's very OOC, but that's what is required. Don't hate me for it. **

**Pairings for this fic are probably...: Finchel, Puckurt, Fabrevans, Brittana, Tike, Flamotta, Artcedes...**


	2. Chapter I, Part II Lopez

Part II- Lopez.

* * *

Okay, what the actual fuck just happened?

My madre just told me that in three short days, I'm going to a fucking reform academy thing. I don't need it. I don't need it. I've been repeating this to myself over and over for the past hour.

Just because I smashed all of the glass at that stupid bus stop. I was fucking angry, okay? Don't scream at me.

Brittany had broken up with me and I was fuming. She said it was because Lord Tubbington told her to. Lord Tubbington's a fucking cat.

So I just offloaded all of my inner frustration on that bus stop window. It was just there, as if silently mocking me. Then I realised that was stupid. It's a fucking window, Santana. It's not mocking you. I just grabbed the nearest garbage receptacle and hurled it straight at the dirty glass. The shards scattered around, lying haphazardly on the pavement and on the road. Man, I had strength.

Now, I just feel weak. In three days, I'm leaving everything behind and I'm being shipped off to a fucking reform school. Those other juvenile bastards won't last two days in that place with me there. I've heard they're strict, but nothing the almighty Santana Lopez can't handle.

McKinley High. Sigh.

It's really all Brittany's fault. No, I can't blame her. I love her too much. That's why I was so distraught. People just skim the surface of my feelings and never bother digging deeper and discovering the _real_ sources of the anger I hold. All the doctors say that they're trying to help me, when the actual fact is, they're not. At all. They don't bother asking me what I'm really feeling; they just look at my previous encounters with 'my bad side' and go from there. They take one look at my smirking face and ask me to leave. Amateurs.

If I actually payed attention in school, I think I'd become a psychologist. I'd like to use my superior knowledge of people to help others. That sounds soft, but when you get the nutcases in there with the real problems, that's when you begin to 'rake in the chips'. Yes, that's a musical quote. Who would've thought? Santana Lopez, show buff.

I like _Chicago_ because it's about badass bitches who exterminate their husbands for pathetic excuses like 'he popped his chewing gum'. I can imagine myself going to prison for killing someone. If somebody 'ticked me off', I'd shoot right at them like a firework.

A loud voice nudges me back to reality and knocks me out of my heavy stupor.

"Santana! Will you get here a second?" My mom calls. Her English isn't perfect, but she tries.  
"What's up?" I answer after trudging loudly down the stairs.

"Santana, have you started packing?"

"Erm, no. You wanna know why?"

"Why, Santana?" My mom replies smoothly.

"Cause I'm not going to that fucking school."

"Language, Santana!" My mom warns.

"Sorry."

"No you're not. And you are going to that school. Brittany's going too. So is Puck, I think."

"I'm not speaking to Brittany right now. And I could care less about fu- _stupid _Puckerman."

"Why aren't you speaking with Brittany?"

"Long story. I couldn't possibly explain." I lie.

"Santana…"

"Fine. She broke up with me. Her cat told her to, so she did."  
"_WHAT? Her cat?" _My mom screeches in utter disbelief.

"You heard right. Lord Tubbington told her that I was stealing her fresh pineapples from her orchard."

"W-I'm not even going to say anything about that. Santana, you have to go to this academy. Please. I don't like to see you leave me, but it's best for you. Please, Santana. Do it for me."

"You really think it's best?"

"Absolutely." She sets her cup of tea back onto the coffee table with a gentle clang.

"Alright. I'll do it." I say morosely.

"Fantastic!" She responds, leaving her seat.  
"You know, it's moments like this when I think you're excited for me to leave."

"No, I would never be." She says. I don't quite believe her.

"I'll begin packing, Mother Dearest."

"Thank you, Daughter Dearest." We laugh momentarily and I head back to my lair…erm _room_ to pack.

This couldn't be that bad. Then, I flash onto something.

_Brittany's going too. So is Puck, I think. _

Puck is understandable indeed.

But why the actual fuck was Brittany going?

* * *

**A/N: And there's Santana. I apologise for the heavy swearing, but it's Santana. Give me a break. So, did I do her justice? Probably not, but a guy can try, huh? Anyway, there's Part 2 of what should be 13 small little introductory insights into the kids' past behaviour and their actions that led to them being thrown in 'WMITT'**


	3. Chapter I, Part III Pierce

Part III- Pierce

* * *

I'm not sure entirely what happened after left. I felt dizzy, as if I'd been spinning on a roundabout for four hours straight. I must've blacked out because I have no recollection of any events up until I woke up on my pink bed.

My mom says that I was a bit naughty. I don't know, I'm just taking her word for it. I asked my mom what I did, but she didn't reveal all of the details, just that I must've been angry after Santana left.

_**FLASHBACK**_

* * *

"_Santana, wait!" I called after she stormed out of the room, surprising, traitorous tears wetting her cheeks. I sat on the bed, stroking Lord Tubbington to keep me calm. He deftly leaps out of my grasp and I clench my fists. _

_I wasn't a violent person. Until then. _

_I grabbed the decorated silver photo frame which held a nice memorable picture of Santana and I in it. My fist shot out uncontrollably and the glass smashed. My fist retracts, tint dots of blood marking my normally smooth, pale skin. I don't make an effort to cleanse my hand of the scarlet liquid, just sit there. _

_A peculiar maniacal scream erupts from my body. It was one full of rage, one that held all of the anger and emotion I'd left undisclosed from all my childhood. Like I said, I was usually a patient, understanding child throughout my younger years and it wasn't until then that my fury was unleashed to the world. _

_I scanned the room for things to toss around to pour my frustration into and found the prime target for my rage. The shiny gold that sat adjacent to my bed. I used to use it to read sometimes, but then it held no purpose for me. I clutched the pristine handle and detached it from the plug socket. _

_One rough swing and it was broken after smashing forcefully against the wall on the opposite of my room. I heard someone trampling up the stairs but all I concentrated on was my angst. _

_**FLASHBACK ENDS**_

* * *

I have no memory of that just that I woke up in my bed. That's all.

"Brittany, I need to speak to you!" My mom calls. Sighing, I stare at the remaining sharp shards of the photo frame and tears spring to my eyes. I'm not usually a mean person. This is too much.

"What do you want?" I ask calmly. She smiles.  
"I just wanted you to know that you're going to get the help you need to get better."

"Get better? I don't have any problems!" I yell, louder than usual. I stem the flow of my anger that threatened to bubble out through my mouth.

"Britt, I didn't think you did until last night either. But you've proven that you have some anger inside of you that you cannot think of any other way to release."  
"No I don't! I just…I was angry." My voice diminuendos until it's barely a whisper.

"Brittany, you're a late entry into a school called McKinley Institute For Troublesome Teens. This doesn't mean that you're a troublesome teenager, I just think that being around other angry teenagers will help you to grow past this fury. You'll get the right psychological help and it'll be sorted when you return."

"When I…_return?_ You mean, I am going away?" I yell.

"You'll be back in six months, Britt. This is what's best for you." She says softly.

"I refuse to believe that this is what's best, but I'll go." I acquiesce.

"Thank you. Now you'll be leaving in three days, so you'll be required to be packed and ready for then. I suggest you start now." She replies coolly and I get ready to pack.

I don't understand this.

I don't have anger problems.

My eyes meet the wrecked lamp and the shattered photo frame.

_**Yeah, Britt, you do. A voice reverberates inside my head. **_

I guess I do.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that this is shorter than the others but I wanted to get a chapter up! Thoughts? **


	4. Chapter I, Part IV Berry

Part IV – Berry

It all started at the ballet.

Stupid Veronica Sanders was trying to take my part as the Swan Queen in our next recital. I know what you're probably thinking, those of you who are cultured properly enough to get the reference, this is all very _Black Swan_ type behaviour. Yes it is, but she doesn't deserve it. I do. Veronica Sanders doesn't even show up to every rehearsal session. She chooses the occasional few to plod along to and suddenly she's being chosen for the lead. I diligently practise my ballet dancing four hours every day, show up to every session and I'm being forced into the _background__**.**_ Rachel Berry does _not_ deserve to stand in the background by any means.

So I took action.

Veronica Sanders all about arrogance. Whenever she came out victorious, she wouldn't hesitate to gloat about it. I do the same thing, but I at least try to tone mine down.

So I took the box of spare ballet shoes and took them out one by one and started to throw them at her. I got so into it that I couldn't even begin to stop. I got the very last one and walked all the way up to her and smacked her across the face with it, along with a warning.

"If you ever try and steal _my_ spotlight again, you'll be very sorry." I murmured menacingly. Well as menacingly as a petite young ingénue could be. Unfortunately for me, my ballet teacher was watching from the door. I'm amazing at everything and very intelligent, but I don't think to check my surroundings when I'm about to hit somebody in a room full of fucking mirrors. She trotted over to us like she was some supreme master of the world and pointed to the door. Whenever she did that, it insinuated that a student was never to return to the ballet school ever again.

My dads were not impressed to say the least.

"RACHEL BARBRA BERRY! WE DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE VIOLENT!" My dad, Hiram, yelled at me.

"I know, Daddy, but you don't understand. She was taking my lead position. AGAIN." I explain desperately.

"YOU CAN'T ALWAYS HAVE EVERYTHING THAT YOU WANT!" Leroy bellowed back.

"OF COURSE I ALREADY KNOW THAT. IF I COULD, I WOULD HAVE A MOTHER!" I screamed. It was a very low blow and they'd probably always hate me for it, but I was angry. I picked up the nearest object which was, coincidentally, a plate and threw it. It shattered powerfully against the wall it collided with, earning another angry glare from Hiram.

"Get to your bedroom." He didn't shout anything this time, but his hushed fury was even worse. I bowed my head and stomped upstairs.

_How dare they tell me that I'm in the wrong? That bitch deserved what she got! _

A while later, they called me downstairs.

"Rachel, we have the solution for some of the…problems you're dealing with lately."

"You're going to blackmail the ballet teacher to let me come back and be the perpetual lead soloist?" I instantly piped up.

"No. Absolutely not. That's your mess, we're not bailing you out of that." Leroy fired back firmly.

"Anyway, we have decided that as of Monday, you shall be attending the McKinley Institute for Troublesome Teenagers. We think it'll help you deal with your obnoxiousness and your obsessive need to be featured. No arguing. You'll go upstairs and pack immediately."

My mouth fell open.

"You're actually sending me away? What about not running from my problems, but facing them head on? Were they just words like everything else? 'Your mother loved you, Rachel' or 'You'll make friends, Rachel'. You're lying to me, again! This won't help; you just don't want to have to deal with this! How selfish of you! You let me deal with it alone. Good parenting skills. But fine, I'll go, if only to escape from my own home which is filled with people who don't care about me."

It was maybe a little dramatic, but that's what I was best at. I was good at making the situation more theatrical to increase the tension. I always appreciated a good dramatic situation. I stormed upstairs for the second time that night and began to throw things into my girlish pink suitcase. I grabbed my billboard with pictures of my mother, quotes from Barbra's movies and retrieved a picture of me standing with my dads during our trip to New York. It was taken outside Broadway just before we went to see Les Miserables. I handled the picture recklessly and tore it into smithereens. My last act of vengeance was raging into my dads bedroom and sprinkling the fragments of the photograph onto their bed for them to see when they went to bed.

Huffing, I returned to my room to finish packing. I sang 'Papa Can You Hear Me' under my breath as I packed, making the time shoot by. It was relevant.

It felt like I couldn't get through to my dads at all anymore. I felt like they just ignored my needs and focused on what they wanted to look like successful parents. I couldn't stand being their puppet any longer. _Maybe this institute will be good for me, _I thought at the time.

_My hopes are higher and who knows, maybe I'll learn to enjoy it? _

**Yeah right.**

* * *

**A/N: Oh god, how long has it been? I don't even want to know. I'm so sorry. My other stories and school were bogging my ass down. I'm more relaxed now and have more time to write, as my followers of 'In My Life' may have noticed. Review, please! I'm just going to ramble so the document gets to more than 1000 words. I hate having them less than 1000 words. I don't know why but it feels like it's not good enough to me. It's just my ways. Anyway, see you soon! **


	5. Chapter I, Part V Anderson

Chapter I, Part V- Anderson

* * *

On the outside, Dalton Academy looked to be the most perfect place anybody could dream of. It was a picturesque view that closely resembled Hogwarts castle. In theory, it was the perfect place to educate teenage boys. It taught them etiquette and fancy attire, along with the high standards of academics. It was truly perfect. At least on the outside it was, anyway.

The inside was on the right track, but partially flawed. The boys had manners, their blazers were always on, even in summer, and they treated each other with respect. That was mainly down to the zero tolerance bullying policy that was implemented before any of them were even born. The policy worked, and bullying was non-existent. At least until the incident occurred.

I, Blaine Anderson, escaped to Dalton Academy after a traumatic experience because of my sexuality. I was beaten at a Sadie Hawkins dance for going with a guy. I was drawn to Dalton because of the zero tolerance policy and hoped that it worked and that nobody hated on me for being gay. I had a pretty low key time there, until Sebastian Smythe showed up.

Sebastian Smythe was this no good Theist who believed Atheists would be punished for their lack of belief. He hated gays, and I was out, so it was only a matter of time before he approached me about it. It was three weeks after he arrived at Dalton.

"Hey, Blaine." He sneered, his meerkat face sauntering towards me as I sat at the piano, going over some song selection for my audition for the Dalton Christmas performance of Les Miserables. I wanted to be Marius, so I was going to play them Empty Chairs at Empty Tables on the piano whilst belting it out. It was going to be a hit. I could feel it.

"Sebastian." I said, trying to stay calm, even though the sight of him made my skin crawl and my lip twitch in anger.

"So I heard a little something about you today…" Sebastian goaded. He paced around the piano, stabbing the keys with his pointy fingers.

"Oh yeah, and what would that be?"

"That you're carrying out the ultimate sin: homosexuality."

"Why do you care?" I responded, not playing his games.

"It's my mission to stop gays carrying out such filth in a world created by God. I'm going to get you the help you need to be normal again, Blaine." The world _normal_ set me off. I could hear the taunts from my former bullies ringing in my ears._ You're not normal, Blaine. You're worthless. A disgrace to the world. _My fists clenched and I drew back a fist and landed a hard punch to Sebastian's snarky face.

"MR ANDERSON!" Mrs Clements' voice was all I heard and I knew I was leaving Dalton. Breaking the policy resulted in immediate expulsion.

I packed my things relatively quickly, and said a long goodbye to my friends in the Warblers. I explained the situation and they vowed to get their almighty revenge on Sebastian Smythe. I was a little sore that I would miss my audition for Les Miserables, but I was happy that I'd got one over on the 'gay haters' of the world. I'd done the community proud in my eyes. Obviously not in the eyes of Dalton's headmaster, Mr DeLarcroft, who spoke in a heavy French accent.

When I arrived home, I explained the events to my supportive mother, but even she sighed and rifled through the cupboard for something. I was about to head upstairs and unpack when she stopped me.

"Blaine wait. There's no point unpacking." She bit her lip and handed me this leaflet. It was a brochure for the 'William McKinley Institute for Troublesome Teenagers'. My eyes widen in disbelief.

"You're sending me away?"

"Just for a while, until you get your anger under control."

"I don't have any anger problems!" I seethed.

"Blaine, please, calm down."

"CALM DOWN? MY OWN MOTHER IS SENDING ME AWAY TO A REFORM SCHOOL BECAUSE I STOOD UP FOR MYSELF AND OTHERS! HOW COULD I POSSIBLY BE CALM RIGHT NOW?" I exploded. Maybe I did have anger problems. Oh well. I had a right to be very angry.

"Blaine, I think it'll do you some good. Maybe you'll meet other people like you and you can bond with them. Please just try it, baby."

I pant, regaining my composure and nod slightly.

"I'll do it."

That turned out to the best three words I'd ever spoken. Well, the second best three words. But that's another story. A story that I was able to tell because of WMITT. A tale of my time there and the people I'd met along the way. One person in particular, actually.

My time there was destined to be good as soon as I saw him. We didn't have the best start, but things got better.

It was perfect. I then realised that you didn't need fancy buildings and posh uniforms to make something perfect. If it feels right, it can be perfect.

And that's just what it was at WMITT.

Perfect.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, you know that pairings list I gave a couple of chapters back? That's all false now. New pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Sam/Quinn, Brittany/Santana, Mike/Tina, Finn/Puck. Okay? I can't fix that other chapter but this is the updated one. :)**


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